So here's a flash fiction thing I wrote.
So here’s a flash fiction thingy I wrote for my 9th grade Myths and Legends class recently... Actually, it’s basically been Myths class so far. No legends yet. We’re reading The Odyssey after winter break, so there’s that. Anyways, I wrote a thing and I think it’s pretty decent. Two teenage friends, Cleve and Norbert, were hanging out in Norbert’s backyard when the ice cream truck came down their street. Being the indecisive fellow he is, Norbert turned to Cleve and asked, “Should I get vanilla, chocolate, or strawberry?” “Well, let’s see. Any of the three flavors you could go with could drastically change your life. If you get vanilla, you’ll move to Ohio in 5 years and eventually become a billionaire after starting a business in your garage. If you get chocolate, you’ll run for president in 2036 and just lose out to the other candidate by four to eight electoral votes, but be a very respectable politician nonetheless. If you get strawberry, you’ll win the lottery. But then you won’t know what to do with the money you win, and you’ll end up living in a trailer within six months.” “And how am I supposed to know you’re not just saying whatever pops into your brain first?” “Oh, don’t you know? I think I may be a psychic. I predicted that Derek Jeter and A-Rod would both hit home runs for their 3,000th hits, and that a First Lady would run for president this year.” “Lemme guess, you made those predictions right after they happened.” “No. Way before actually.” “Well, you’re a trustworthy guy, so... I guess I’d rather be a billionaire than an almost-president. Vanilla it is.” Norbert ordered a vanilla cone, and Cleve, thinking he could actually run for president by making one of the most minor decisions he’ll ever face in his life, got chocolate. Fast forward 20 years. Let’s see what these guys are up to. Norbert actually moved to Calichuhomasota in 2021, after hearing about the wonderfulness of Townsville City. He hasn’t started a business yet, nor has he become a billionaire. One day, he decides to call Cleve to tell him he was wrong. “Heya Cleve.” “Hiya. What’s up?” “Ok, first of all, where are you living right now?” “In a neighborhood called Redundant Neigborhood in Clevelandtown City.” “Can you text me your address?” “Sure.” Norbert received a text a minute later with Cleve’s address. Without giving it a second thought, he threw a flashlight, a snow globe, a pair of latex gloves, a blank piece of paper, and a can of soda into a bag and jumped into his car and drove to Cleve’s house as fast as humanly possible. He rang the doorbell, and Cleve opened the door. “Heya Cleve. First of all, happy birthday.” Norbert opened his bag and dumped what was inside onto the floor. “Um... First of all, my birthday isn’t for another month. Second, how come you’re here?” “YOU ARE A LIAR! YOU SAID YOU WERE A PSYCHIC TWENTY YEARS AGO AND THAT I’D BECOME A BILLIONAIRE AND YOU’D BE RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT. WELL, IT LOOKS LIKE YOU WERE WRONG. IF YOU WERE RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT, YOU WOULD BE ALL OVER THE NEWS, AND YOU WOULD BE TOO BUSY TO SIT IN YOUR LIVING ROOM WATCHING BASKETBALL.” “Dude, chill.” “Nah, I’m good.” Norbert then proceeded to kick Cleve’s TV until it broke, knock down all the chairs in his kitchen, break all the glass he could possibly find, beat his car to a pulp with a baseball bat, steal all the money he had been hoarding in his room, and put anything of value he could find into his car. Soon Cleve and Norbert heard sirens coming down the block. They opened the door and saw a bunch of angry police officers standing around the car. “NORBERT DINKLETON, PLEASE EXIT THE HOUSE WITH YOUR HANDS UP.” yelled one officer. Norbert stepped outside the house, hands up and all. Cleve, who was right behind him, went to talk with the police for a few minutes. Then Norbert came down. And this is where things go south for Norbert. Fast. “Norbert Dinkleton, you are now under arrest for breaking literally every rule of the road there is, robbery of this man’s valuables, destruction of this man’s valuables, and you still haven’t paid that speeding ticket from two years ago. That should add up to a $500,000 fine, 50 years to life in prison, and... Uh.... I feel like I need a third thing, but I got nothing.” So Norbert got sent to jail and he never saw Cleve again. The end. So that’s that. What about you? Would you rather be a billionaire or almost the president? Category:Stuff